


Magic Overruled

by tinyace



Series: A4O Hogwarts AU [2]
Category: All For One (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Multi, Sequel, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyace/pseuds/tinyace
Summary: Hogwarts AU Sequel - Three years have passed since Dorothy graduated Hogwarts, and life doesn't go as planned. Meanwhile, technology and magic are working better together and the vote to revoke the Statute of Secrecy is being revisited.The wizarding world is ready to show themselves, but is the muggle world ready for them?





	1. Dorothy

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, I do not have the time to commit to an extensive AU like I would’ve wanted. But I’ve been wanting to explore an open magical world for too long not to do anything with it. So this sequel won’t have an overarching narrative. Instead, we will check in on each character and see what they are up to five years after the events in _An Everyday Sort of Magic_.

_“Now we will go live to the Ministry of Magic where the revocation of the Statute of Secrecy will be voted on once more. Five years ago the wizarding world decided with a small majority against the revocation...”_

The black-and-white videofeed cuts to a conference room. Ministers from all over the world are seen heavily arguing but there is no audio. The disembodied announcer’s voice continues: 

_“... These days magic and technology go along more swimmingly. The Minister of Magic, Rick Liu, has voted for a revision on the subject. He is about to enter the stage. Let’s hear what he has to say.”_

“Castelfart, volume down. You’re on the clock.”

Dorothy, who is lazily draped over the countertop and glued to the small television hanging in the corner, puts up her middle finger. “Fuck off, douchecanoe. There have been zero customers all day.”

Rochefort looks frantically behind the counter. “Where’s the remote?”

“There isn’t one, remember? The thing is ancient. You gotta turn the dials on the tv.”

He grumbles and walks over to the television. He stretches to reach the dials but it’s too high, even for him. In desperation, he starts to jump up to reach it.

“What are you doing, dude? Most stores in Diagon Alley are closed for the day anyway. Why we need to work is beyond me. _ROCHEFORT_! Stop jumping!”

“I have a personal vendetta against Liu, okay? I can’t stand to hear his fucking voice.”

“Well, you gotta deal. Like everyone else in the wizarding world, I want to know the outcome to this vote, okay? It’s kind of important.”

Rochefort catches his breath. “Since when do you care about politics?”

“Since when do you not use a wand?”

“I left it,” he jumps up once more, “at home. Forget it. Can you at least _look_ like you’re busy? Polish some Bludgers, clean the robes,” Rochefort says as he walks back to the supply room. 

“Why do you always get the slightly less mind numbing tasks like testing out the new brooms?”

“I’m your superior.”

“You started this job _one_ month before I did.”

He smirks. “Have fun, Castlemore” and shuts the door.

Dorothy sighs. She yanks a cleaning cloth out of a drawer and jumps up the counter (something her boss would highly frown upon). She crosses her legs and gets her wand out. 

“ _Accio Bludger_ ,” she mumbles. 

A Bludger comes flying over to her and she takes it in her lap. Mindlessly, she starts cleaning it as she looks around. Nothing much is happening on the screen. Liu has finished his speech and the announcer is re-explaining the Statute of Secrecy and why it came into place.

Usually on slow days, Dorothy would be spying on the people walking around in Diagon Alley. But today even that little joy was taken from her. Behind the golden letters spelling _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ painted onto the window was an empty street. The shop across from them, the _Magical Menagerie_ was closed for today. Although Dorothy could see the many creatures crawling around in their cages. 

The sad part was that watching these little creatures was usually the highlight of her day. At one point she named a few of her favorite animals, but instantly stopped once an owl she had named Ymit was sold. She had been so heartbroken over it she decided never to name another pet ever again.

If Dorothy had known this years ago, that the disappearance of a random owl she looked at every day across the street would leave her so distraught, she would have made sure to take more courses back at Hogwarts and get a chance at a _decent_ job.

The buzzing of her phone pulls her out of her thoughts. She checks who messaged her.

 **connie** ♥: Still in class. Need to finish a paper tonight. Will be home late. :(

 **dorothy** : do i need to leave you dinner?

 **connie** ♥: I’ll eat on campus. Any news about the Vote?

 **dorothy** : nope. I’ll keep you posted

Dorothy sees the little mark turning blue telling her Connie has read the message. Something is evidently lacking in their conversation and Dorothy hastily types:

 **dorothy** : ily♥♥♥

 **connie** ♥: Love you too, Dee ♥

Dorothy smiles at the reply and puts away her phone. Today doesn't have to be all that bad, she reminds herself. With a bit of luck she can convince Rochefort to close up shop early today. 

_“... The votes have been counted and within a few minutes we shall hear if the wizarding world will change for good!”_

Dorothy uses her wand to switch out one Bludger for another, her eyes focusing back on the small television.

“Assfort, get in here!”

A muffled “Fuck off!” comes from the other side of the wall.

“The Vote’s about to be announced!”

“FINE!” The door swings open and Rochefort puts his goggles into his hair. 

_“... Let’s now turn to Minister of Magic Rick Liu who will show the results of the Vote!”_

A pair of goggles hit the screen. “Can’t believe that dickhead became _minister_.”

“We agree on something there, Roche.”

Rick Liu appears on screen. A shaky close up tries to center him in the frame, but ends up cutting off his forehead.

“Why do we have this Vote again? Wizards don’t know shit about technology.”

Dorothy shushes him.

 _“Thank you all for coming today_ ,” Rick Liu’s smooth voice slithers over the speakers of the tv. _“And thank you all for everyone watching at home_.” He nods at the camera. _“Today, important magical creatures and wizards from all across the world gathered together to revisit the important Vote that will affect each and everyone of us.”_

“Get to the point faster, dude,” Dorothy says.

Rochefort puts his hand up and without question Dorothy high fives it.

_“Now without further ado, the results. A vast majority of 111 white marbles voted against 93 black marbles. That means the Statute of Secrecy will be revoked as soon as possible. We did it folks! We just made history!”_

“Holy shit,” Dorothy mumbles in shock.

Rochefort’s eyes are wide. “J-Just like that? It’s gone? What happens next?”

“Dunno.” 

“What are we going to do? Jump on the BBC and announce to the world wizards have been existing under their noses the whole time?”

“I don’t _know_ , Rochefort!”

Her mind is all over the place. Her first instinct is to call Connie but she’s still in class. How would she take it after all that happened with Monty? Should she tell the Inseparables? When is she even allowed to tell Muggles about this?

Five years ago she wanted nothing more than the Statute being revoked. Right now, with the world gearing into new dimensions, she no longer feels that same certainty.


	2. Treville

“You can’t talk me out of it, Anne. I’ve made up my mind and you will have to accept my decision.”

“Darling, don’t be so dramatic! A new Hogwarts year will start within a week. The Statute just got revoked and the whole world is in turmoil. You can’t leave now.”

Treville represses the sting of guilt that bubbles up. “You said it yourself. Too long I’ve been following your footsteps. I’ve dedicated my life to you and you’re right; I must look further.”

“Whatever it is I said, we can figure this out,” Anne steps closer and wraps her hands around Treville’s neck. “If we must pause our relationship, we shall. We’ve managed to keep our private and professional lives separate before and we can do it again. But _please_ , don’t resign from Hogwarts.”

Treville avoids the intimate eye contact and mutters quietly: “You said I bored you.” 

“I take it back,” Anne whispers in despair.

“But you can’t,” she locks eyes harshly. “And you shouldn’t. Perhaps a year long distance will help us understand what we really want in life.”

Tears gather in Anne’s eyes. “You’re the fair heart to my tender soul.”

Anne presses her lips softly against hers and Treville feels her heart leaping out to her.

“Don’t leave me, Jeanne.” Anne kisses her again. “ _Please_.”

When their lips touch for a third time Treville melts away into Anne’s fantasyland of grand gestures and empty promises. She breaks off the kiss. 

“I have to go.”

“You’ll come back,” Anne asks, but then suddenly doesn't seem too certain about that. “Right?” she adds hesitantly.

Treville shuts her eyes and wills herself not to linger on that kiss. “I can’t promise anything, Anne.”

She turns around and grabs the travelling bag she had already packed. 

“ _Jeanne_!” 

Anne’s cry cuts into her soul. Before her emotions can clog her mind she thinks of her place of destination. 

Just when Anne runs up to her, Treville vanishes into thin air.

\--

With a loud crack Treville apparates and lands with both feet in the sand. Nausea takes over and she grips her stomach. Intercontinental apparitions are still risky, even for a distinguished wizard.

The cool sea breeze fills her lungs and steadies her. When the world around her is no longer spinning she lifts her head and a timid smile curls on her lips. Though mere moments ago she had been standing in a London that was hurrying to work, she now watches as the fishers return to harbor after a long day at sea. 

Treville never could accustom to city life. The constant sensory stimulans of people around her and the mark they leave on this world is a complete contrast from this fisher town in rural China, where she grew up. Where adults wake up early to sail the sea and after a fresh meal fall to sleep instantaneously. 

She walks closer to the harbor where people are hauling in the fish for today. She grips her bag firmer. The strong scent is overwhelming and Treville never thought she could forget such smell. Though standing in it after so many years feels like a coming back and new sensation all in one.

A few fishers spot her and nudge each other. Treville is nailed to the ground, terrified. She looks amongst the crowd of men - young and old - and recognizes many familiar faces, just not the one she’s searching for. 

“Get Jian,” one of the older men commands a young boy. Jeanne recognizes his face as one of her old neighbors but has forgotten his name. The man scolds the boy and almost has to push him until he runs off. By the affectionate speech he uses she can tell the boy is his grandson.

The old man gives her a firm nod and a “Welcome back” before returning to his work. 

In the hectic display of people carrying crates of fish Jeanne loses the boy out of her sight. She has to step aside when fishers pass her and throw the haul into trucks. 

At last she sees the boy return and a man tags after him. Jeanne’s stomach knots. She can’t believe it’s been so long. He looks just like she remembers though his stern face has more wrinkles and his hair is mostly greyed out. It’s difficult to read his expression. Whatever comes next, she knows she can’t make the first step.

Jian moves closer and pats her shoulders awkwardly. “My little bird has flown back home at last.”

There is a certain sentiment in his voice she has never heard before, or maybe it’s the sound of Mandarin after missing it for so long that catches her off guard.

“Hi dad,” Jeanne manages to get out, softly. It feels so good to speak in her native language once more.

Her father sticks his hands behind his back and gives her a long look. “You’ve been gone too long.”

She nods. “I’m here now.”

“Yes,” he says. “Come. Help pull out the fish, will you?”

They go back to his boat and carry the fish on one of the trucks parked nearby. Once the seller drives off Jian looks expectantly to Jeanne. 

“Would you mind going back to sea?”

He shakes his head and scurries back to his boat without another word. Jeanne smiles nervously. She’s only been here half an hour and already is reminded of the many similarities. It was the right call to come back. She hopes.

“Get the rope,” Jian gestures.

The harbor has emptied out by now. Jian hops on board his tiny boat and Jeanne settles down opposite of him. The motor roars and Jian steers them away from the coast. Once they’re at open water where nobody surrounds them he turns the motor off again. 

“You wanted to talk?”

She’s pleased he remembers. They never talked much, but whenever they did it was here, out in the ocean. “Yes. I’m sure you’ve heard the news?”

There’s a spark of recognition in his eyes but he’s too stubborn to latch on. “This week’s weather is good for fishing.”

Jeanne sighs. “ _Dad_. You know.”

“You tell me what you think I know.”

“The Wizard Statute of Secrecy is revoked. It’s been all over the news. _Muggle_ news. Even a remote place like this must heard rumors.”

He refuses to look at her, but then he mumbles. “We heard.”

Jeanne hesitates. “Have you told anyone?”

“No.”

As suspected.

“Mom was a big part of this community.”

“So were you.”

The words sting.

“Maybe when I was really young,” Jeanne says. “I went to Hogwarts when I was eleven and didn’t return until I graduated.”

“Your mom went with you,” he reminded her. “She wanted you to have the best education.”

“She only was in England during summer and winter break. Whenever I was at Hogwarts she came back here. It’s not the same!" Jeanne feels the heat behind her words.

“You say you went to magic school but you couldn’t help her! None of your Healers could cure her! What good is this magic of yours, hm?”

“It was cancer! Do you know how difficult-” Treville bites her tongue. The argument escalated too quickly. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No. You _should_ have come. Twelve years ago, Jeanne!”

“I _did_! Remember? Until she told me to _leave_. I would’ve stayed till the last breath she drew if she had allowed me to.” She swallows thickly.

They turn awfully quiet. The boat calmly floating over the tiny waves. The wind ringing in their ears.

“She… said a name,” her dad grimaces. “Anne.”

Jeanne has difficulty breathing and for a moment feels like she will blank out. Her mother had been so dismissive back then. Jeanne had expected she had erased the conversation from her memory altogether. Took it with her into her grave. Not Jeanne; she remembers it all too clearly. It had been her mom’s final week. She would die any moment and all Jeanne knew was that she could not live with herself if she hadn’t come out to her mom. It was the biggest mistake of her life.

“That’s why you left, right?”

The question brings her back to reality. “S-she’s a friend.”

“Good friend.”

Treville turns pale and nods.

“I see.” 

His face is unreadable and he turns his eyes back to the water. She can’t say more. Maybe one day, though she knows he would still have trouble understanding even in the bestest of scenarios. But somehow, this feels like a start.

Her heart stops beating in her throat after a long while. The sea helps her calm down. “I’ve missed this sound. The ocean,” she clarifies.

Her father hums. He has his eyes closed and enjoys the last bit of sun of the day. 

Different memories, happier memories come to mind. Times when the three of them would sail deep into the ocean and spot orcas. Treville can still see them leap out of the waters. It was the most magnificent sight she would ever seen.

The first time she casted a corporeal Patronus and an orca appeared she had dropped her wand out of shock. It reassured her how connected she was to her roots, even though it had been years since she had visited. She never could quite share that part with her father. He hadn’t known he had married a wizard and if not for Jeanne, he never would have. 

“I’ve not been a good daughter to you. I know that. But when mom…” she bites back the painful memory. “I thought I wasn’t welcome anymore.”

He frowns at her. “You weren't welcome. For a long time. That much I have to admit.” 

It aches to hear, but she notices the past tense. “What changed?”

He uncrosses his arms and he ponders over the right words to say. “Time changed. I lost my family all at once.”

Her father takes her hand and she wells up when he says, “I will not have that happen again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:  
> 1) It's probably very clear I know nothing about fishing and the economics surrounding it. But ever since I was figuring out Treville's Patronus waaay back and when I finally settled on an orca I could not let go of the idea of her growing up in a remote Chinese fisher town. It's very romanticized and probably nothing like what it's actually like. But this idea has been broiling in my head for over two years and I could not let it go.  
> 2) Jeanne is her English name. It's an homage to her father's name Jian. I decided not to give her a Chinese name, because I do not think that's my right as a fanfic author and _especially_ as I am not Chinese and do not know enough about the culture. But she does have one obviously! :) I imagine her mother having dual citizenship and that's why she wanted Jeanne to attend Hogwarts.


	3. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head’s up that there’s some irresponsible alcohol consumption in this chapter!

“Our last stop is here. Before us you see Gringotts, the wizarding bank. It was build in 1474 by its namesake Gringott and is entirely operated by goblins. Yes, goblins are real. What a wonder,” Alex recites monotonously.

One of the tourists raises their hand. “A bank? So wizards have their own money?”

“We do. If you’re interested in buying anything in Diagon Alley after the tour, you will first have to exchange your Muggle money here. Any more questions?”

She internally groans when someone raises their hand. “Yes?”

“I read in a folder you only have coins but no paper money. How does that work? Do you solely make small transactions? How much is this ‘Galleon’ worth anyway? I saw brooms are quite expensive. Do you just carry around a sack of these Galleons? Does something like wizard credit cards exist?”

 _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me_ , Alex thinks and instead of rolling her eyes like she desperately wants to plasters on her employment smile: “Those are excellent questions, sir. One Galleon is worth about five British pounds. Though this may be strange to you, having always dealt with Muggle money, us wizards have been using this system for centuries. It’s just what you’re used to. Yes?” She nods to a teenage girl who has her hand raised. 

“So I could buy my own wand?”

“You can’t. Not really. You see the wand chooses the wizard. Since you’re no wizard no wand will choose you. Of course Ollivanders has a nice supply of souvenir wands that _look_ like wands and light up if you press a button. But you won’t be able to cast any magic as a Muggle.”

After another round of answering mind numbing questions that she has to answer ten times on a daily basis and has pointed out the flying simulator on the corner, Alex rushes back to the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron to a new group of Muggles eagerly awaiting their wizard tour.

\--

It’s after working hours when Alex downs her third firewhisky. She hasn’t bothered taking off her work polo and drums her nails over the bar. Luckily, most Muggle tourists do not stick around the Leaky Cauldron after the Diagon Alley tours. If she has to answer _one_ more time if dragons are real or has to take _one_ more photo with these attention-seeking dimwits ( _Look, my entire Instagram feed! We met a real life wizard!_ ) she might just snap and voluntarily go into a coma.

Her bad luck continues as an old acquaintance walks into the Leaky Cauldron and spots her before she can hide behind the counter.

“Alex? Is that you? Remember me?” 

“Dorothy Castlemore. How could I forget?” she notes the bartender she wants another refill. She needs to get real drunk real fast if this turns into a school reunion.

Dorothy invites herself to the barstool next to her and orders a Butterbeer. “God, crazy running into you! How are you?”

“Alright. Everything’s good. How are you?”

“Great! I think. I mean apart from the snitch that got loose and reeved havoc in the entire store. The clean up took over three hours.”

Alex raises her eyebrow and the liquor makes her tongue looser than she’d like. “You work in a shop? I thought you’d be a national Quidditch player by now.” 

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “I mean, I used to. Played a year for the Holyhead Harpies. Now I work in the Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley.”

“Why?” _Dammit Alex!_

“The pay’s better, honestly. So are the hours. Depressing, huh?”

“Tell me about it.”

“And you’re a tourist guide?” Dorothy gestures to Alex’s polo. “I always see those polos from behind the window with a large amount of people behind them. Must be rough.”

She scoffs. “What makes you say that?”

“Just that I hadn’t imagine you doing that sort of work.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Alex downs the firewhisky. 

“No, I didn’t mean - that came out wrong. I meant that I always thought you’d be our next Minister of Magic or something! You’ve always been such an amazing wizard.”

“Too bad it doesn’t count for anything in the wizarding world. All those stupid Muggles being fascinated by our world. Hey guys, here’s a fun fact about the wizarding world: we have _no_ higher education! In _our_ dumb world, you’re not even eighteen and expected to know what you want to do for the rest of your life! Pick a fulltime job based on your grades in high school, what could _possibly_ go wrong?” 

She puts her glass out when the bartender walks by and he instantly fills her glass. 

“You’re still in your early twenties, there’s plenty of time! And your job still beats being an illegal Muggle transporteur, right?”

Alex shrugs, the strong liquor getting a hold of her. “Might be worth it just to get spliced.” 

“You can’t be serious,” Dorothy says far more serious than Alex had anticipated. It starts to annoy her. Why can’t Dorothy understand she’s just joking? It’s not like life matters anyway. She downs the shot and the liquor burns in her throat. It’s the blurring of the hard edges of life that makes drinking so easy. She notes the bartender to refill her glass once more.

“Hey Alex, you might wanna slow down there. How much did you have exactly?” Dorothy chuckles awkwardly as the bartender mindlessly serves Alex another firewhisky.

“Don’t worry, I’m consistent. I drink a similar amount every day.”

“Whoa!” Dorothy exclaims and yanks the shot away from her. “You get drunk _every_ day?”

“I’m not getting drunk _now_.”

“Jesus Christ, Alex. That shit can kill you!”

“Which is _why_ I need to drink,” Alex says. There’s heat behind her words and she snatches the glass back and drinks it all in one go before Dorothy can steal her glass again. When she puts it down and looks over to Dorothy, her brown eyes are filled with concern. “Look, I was mostly kidding, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

“I _am_ worrying about you,” Dorothy says. “Does anyone know? Friends? Family?”

“Ah yes!” Alex swings her arm broadly around the room. “You mean _all_ the people that care about me! Look around!” She scoffs and puts up a hand to notify the bartender. Her voice sounds gravel and bitter. “You want to know who even cares I exist these days? I’m talking to her.”

Dorothy looks uncomfortable. “Surely that can’t be true.”

“Why would I lie about that?” Alex frowns. “You _honestly_ want to know how I feel? I feel like shit. I have a shit job, a shittier apartment with asshole roommates, I have no career opportunities and I’m a sad drunk. My father would be _so_ proud. Happy now? You happy that the know-it-all Prefect with a bright future is down in the gutter?”

“We need to get you home,” Dorothy says, her voice surprisingly soft.

“What?”

“Come,” Dorothy stands up and gently tugs at her arm, “I’ll make sure you get there safely.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Alex whines and feels a sudden wave of anger and sadness was over her. “I don’t wanna -” she starts crying, the alcohol fully setting in.

“It’s okay,” Dorothy shushes her and leaves a Galleon on the bar to cover the cost. “I’ll get you home.”

“No, no. I’m fine - I’m...” 

Dorothy wraps a supporting arm around Alex’s waist and Alex lets herself be lead outside. She can barely register her dizziness. She definitely drank too much too quickly. She usually paces herself a lot better over the evening. 

“Where do you live?”

“Diag.. Diagn’n… this friggin’ word. I can do this, _Diagon_ Alley.” 

“That’s close by, lucky us. Above which shop?”

“Sweet shop.”

“Sugarplum’s Sweets Shop?”

“Yes.”

They walk in silence. The cool evening helps Alex clear the fogginess in her brain a bit. Her tears on her cheeks dry. She’s definitely not looking forward to the inevitable hangover tomorrow morning.

“I’m not happy by the way, seeing you this way. It’s not what I would’ve wanted for you,” Dorothy speaks up after a while. “And if it’s any consolation, I didn’t exactly end up where I wanted to either. But I try not to let it ruin me.”

Alex shakes her head. “You and I are _different_. You’ve always been so… positive. I’m a sad blob.”

“I doubt it. Therapy can help too, I know it did for me.”

She frowns. “You’ve-been-to-therapy?” she says, slurring her words.

“Yeah. For my ADHD. And my shitty home situation. But that’s _not_ a story for when your company is fucking drunk.” Dorothy says with a grin. She has to pull Alex back to her side as she got distracted by the flickering lights from the fireworks shop.

“I know you Alex Silleg. You’re strong. You got this.”

\--

Alex wakes up the next morning by her beeping alarm clock in the form of a screaming dragon. She smashes the clock to the ground and groans by the sensation of her brain ready to explode. Her stupid roommate is already making breakfast eggs and the smell is too overwhelming. In an hour she has to guide her first group of tourists through Diagon Alley. God knows how she’s going to survive _that_. What had even happened last night? 

She reaches for her phone but instead grabs a piece of paper. It’s a hastily written note that at first glance appears to be some ancient Runes, but upon focusing Alex realizes it’s just incredibly bad English handwriting.

_Morning Alex!_

_I reckon you got quite the hangover. You might not remember everything from last night and that’s okay. Today will be the start of your recovery! Now I know you live so close by I’ll make sure to drop by once a week. More if necessary. I wouldn’t call you an alcoholic (yet) but you might still want to quit. So if you ever find the urge to drink after work, come visit me at the Quidditch Shop! I usually have to stay there late to clean up after the shop closes. Lastly, I’ll leave you with my personal information down below and the number of the therapist I mentioned. See you soon!_

_Dorothy_

Bits and pieces of last night slowly come back to her. It’s enough to paint a fairly good picture of what happened. Did Dorothy bring her all the way back to her apartment? Did she come in? Given there’s this note, she did. Alex saves Dorothy’s contact information in her phone and then stares at the phone number written below it.

Alex sighs. She has known it for a long time, but Dorothy has pushed her over the line. She punches in the number. 

“Hi, I’m Alex Silleg. I got her through the recommendation of a friend. Could I make an appointment for an intake?”


End file.
